Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)

by Rebecca Yarros

There, in the center of the horde, now flies a wyvern slightly larger than the others, bearing a rider in royal blue. The pitch of my stomach says that if he comes closer, I’ll recognize his dark, thinning hair and the annoyed purse of his lips, even if logic argues that I won’t, that it’s just a fucking dream. My heart rate soars as fear soaks into my skin, colder than the rain and melting snow around us. “As you can see,” Mom says, tearing her gaze from the horde. “It’s too late for wards now.” “It’s not!” I argue.

“If we raise the wards, every wyvern on this field is dead. Every dark wielder is powerless—” I swallow, thinking of Jack. “Nearly powerless. Name one other weapon capable of managing that feat. Just go down there with me and see if it will hold power. Help me imbue it,” I plead with my mother. “If it won’t hold power, then I’ll do whatever you want, but I can do this, General. I know how.”

You’re going to love Violet. She’s smart and stubborn. Reminds me a lot of you, actually. You just have to remember when you meet her: she’s not her mother.

“Cut the storm so the gryphons can fly!” I shout at my mother as I pass by, sprinting under the archway. Fuck her permission or her understanding. If the wardstone can hold power, I’ll imbue it on my own.

Every second counts as I step up to the stone. It looks exactly how it did when we arrived last night, with the exception of the powerful hum of energy and the flames. “Looks just like ours did before we imbued and fired it,” Brennan observes. “Right, except this stone was actually on fire when we got here,” I tell him, lifting my hand to the black iron.

“It’s why you feel like you don’t fit in with the other adolescents,” I note, my hand shaking as I hold the power steady, giving the stone what I can until others arrive to help. “It’s why you were allowed to bond. Gods, you told me yourself, but I thought you were just being…” “An adolescent?” she challenges, flaring her nostrils. Nodding, I try to ignore the sounds of battle high above so I can concentrate on saving us, even as anger barrels down the bond from Tairn, and fury… I can’t think about what Xaden’s doing. “I should have listened when you said you were the head of your own den. That’s why no one could fight your Right of Benefaction last year. Why the Empyrean allowed a juvenile to bond.”

“You are all those things, too.” I wobble under the strain of wielding but keep my balance, keep the power flowing into the stone. “You didn’t have to hide. You could have told me.” “If you didn’t figure it out, you weren’t worthy of knowing.” She huffs. “I waited six hundred and fifty years to hatch. Waited until your eighteenth summer, when I heard our elders talk of the weakling daughter of their general, the girl forecasted to become the head of the scribes, and I knew. You would have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You would be mine.” She leans into my hand. “You are as unique as I am. We want the same things.” “You couldn’t have known I would be a rider.”

“You are not a black dragon, or any of the six that we know of. You’re a seventh breed.” “Yes.” Her eyes widen in excitement. I suck in a quick, steadying breath. “I want you to tell me everything, but our friends are dying, so I need to ask if you are willing to breathe fire for the stone.” Sweat pops on my forehead as my temperature rises, and yet I pull more and more power, my arm trembling with the effort to keep it leashed, keep it trickling instead of striking. “It is why I was left behind.”

“You’re burning out,” Andarna warns, her voice pitching high with worry. The next breath I take singes my lungs. “Silver One!” Tairn roars. The wards have to go up. “You both have to live. Promise me you’ll choose to live.” Because I’m starting to realize the price of imbuing this wardstone in time to save everyone I love, and it’s my life. My power feels so insignificant to a stone this size. It would take all of Tairn’s power—his very life—and I won’t give that. But I can give enough that the riders who make it can finish the job.

“You must save yourself,” Tairn demands. “I chose you not as my next, but as my last, and should you fall, then I will follow.” “No.” Steam rises from my skin. “Let go,” Andarna pleads, and the rush of air in the chamber paired with the slight tremble of the ground tells me she’s landed.

“What did you do!” Mira drops to her knees and pulls Mom’s body from Brennan, her hands furiously seeking what mine just had, any sign of a heartbeat. “Mom?” She shakes her violently, but Mom’s head rolls onto her shoulder. “Mom!” I can’t breathe. She’s the tide, the storms, the very air, a force too big to be extinguished without ripping the world itself apart to the core. How can she just be gone? “I’m so sorry.” Sloane cries softly. “What did you do?” Mira yells again, the full force of her wrath turned on Brennan. “Xaden needs you,” Andarna says, but I can’t move. “Tairn and Sgaeyl wait with him.” “We need to get them out,” Aaric says, and there are hands—his, I think—on my shoulders, pulling me up off the floor and guiding me backward.

When Andarna moves, my gaze wanders up the mended wardstone to the iron flame that burns black on top. It’s all that’s left of my mother.

Most generals dream of dying in service to their kingdom. But you know me better than that, my love. When I fall, it will be for one reason only: to protect our children.

“My mom,” I try to explain, but my throat closes. “She. The wardstone didn’t have any power, and my mom…” “Oh, Vi.” Rhi takes the step that separates us and pulls me in a hug. It doesn’t matter that I shouldn’t, that it’s a shameful display of emotion, or that she wouldn’t want it.

“My mother saved us.” My voice cracks. “She had Sloane siphon Aimsir’s power and both their life energies into the wardstone. She’s gone.” His eyes slide closed. “I’m so fucking sorry.” “She killed your father. Why would you be sorry?” I swipe at another tear that leaks out. “I didn’t want her dead,” he says softly. “I could never want anyone you love dead.” Silence falls over us, and it’s not the comfortable kind. “Melgren wants us to come back,” I throw out there, looking for some reaction, any reaction.

“You know I do.” I grab hold of his hand, and my stomach twists when he turns toward me but lowers his eyes. “What’s out there that I should be scared of, Xaden? What did he tell you? What did you see?” What could he know that has him this shaken? Slowly, he drags his gaze up my body, and it feels like it takes years for him to just look at me. When he finally does, I gasp, my hand tightening on his in reflex.

No. That single word is all I can think, feel, scream internally as I stare up at the man I’m hopelessly in love with. “Me,” he whispers, a faint, almost indistinguishable red ring emanating from his gold-flecked onyx irises. “You should be scared of me.”

“And yet, you just did.” Jack laughs, and the sound curdles my blood. “All this time, you’ve been convincing everyone you’re the hero, and now you’ll be the villain…especially in her story. Welcome to our fucked-up family. Guess we’re brothers now.”